I thought I’d be driving three and a half hours to Brighton. We wouldn’t have arrived there yet if we’d done it, but I was in no fit state so I changed plans and booked this amazing Glastonbury Airbnb instead. Why was I in no fit state? Well, Kambo had something to do with it.
Kambo was given to Amazonian warriors before they went to battle, so you’d think I’d be good for a drive afterwards. But I wasn’t. If someone started throwing spears at me the best I’d have managed today is to climb a small tree.
Last night I spent about 8 hours in dialogue with medicine before going out into the open air and seeing the stars. At about 4am I fell asleep in a bivouac on a trampoline under a universe spread wide. To those few of you who haven’t slept on a trampoline in a bivouac, it comes highly recommended. The creepy crawlies aren’t interested so you’re much less likely to wake up within spiders in your ears. The only real issue is condensation and the fact it’s bouncy when you wake up suddenly wondering why the hell you fell asleep on a trampoline.
After my bouncy dreamtime, the frog had to happen, despite my dread. Kambo. I blogged about it before at length with science! Knowing what I’d experienced last time I can’t say I was looking forward to it. But since 2017 I’ve been heavily ingesting toxins, and I’ve always been an exponent of ordeal medicine. Might as well try and wring out the old liver now I’m staring down the barrel of a long time sober still.
I was first in the circle, and thankfully had the forward thinking to remind the practitioner how I passed out last time – in 2017. Nothing has changed. I was out like a light almost immediately but this time we were ready for it and I had that forever lost time in darkness before I switched back home to my body and to somebody saying “You’re back with us”. He was right. Somebody else was gently holding me upright. It was probably only a few seconds of nothing but it could have been infinity. I woke up to a very strong awareness that my belly and my cells and my gall bladder and my liver were fighting with each other to propel their unwanted stuff into my unwanted stuff up through my mouth into the white bucket I was cradling like a pedigree cat.
I pretty much filled that bucket. I was gulping down water in the brief respite moments so I had something to bring back up in the next wave of extreme nausea. It lasted quite a long time. The well being afterwards and the sense of grounding and clarity about my next move – all of that was there, sure. I feel great. But given the choice I wasn’t going to drive back to London. I could barely get through a gate.
So I’ve booked a lovely luxury last minute Airbnb cabin, and I’m writing this in front of the log burner. There’s a bed that isn’t a trampoline, a hot shower, and cooking facilities. It’s marvellous and I’m thrilled.
I’ll likely blog in more detail about all this when I’m not knackered. But for now, beddiebyes.
My dots are now in a cross – (ish). Or will be when they heal. Mixing my metaphors again.
AlBarclay 